A/N: So, yeah... I was going to finish this chapter the day after I published the story.. but my internet can go eat a dick. So get this: I get back from work on Monday, hyped and ready to continue my tangent. What happens? My internet provider killed our service... because my grandmother changed her credit card... and wasn't even in state to fix it... So I offered to pay the bill, went half and half on the payment with my dad, and here we are.. as my creative juices have almost completely settled.

Meh, whatevs. What happens happens, and there's nothing I can do to change it.

See you on the other side~

Disclaimer: I do not own, or claim to own RWBY. The series and affiliated copyrights go to Monty Oum and Rooster Teeth.

Vlad closed his bedroom door behind him and dropped his weight into the office chair in front of his computer. He ran both hands through his still slightly damp hair in frustration. He had never been this thrown off by a dream before, but something just got to him. Up until the end everything felt fine, but he couldn't remember exactly what happened to cause him to panic so suddenly.

Something was just.. off. That's all he could remember. Feeling wrong in the dream, just before he woke up. Vlad, as it so happened, had a very unique gift. Unlike most people, who just experience dreams without much call in the going-ons of their subconscious, Vlad was able to lucid dream as far back as he could remember. That's why he loved going to sleep. It was not eight hours of rest and inactivity. For him, it was eight extra hours a day for him to live his own fantasies. That's also why he had the diary.

Every morning, immediately after waking up, Vlad would write down as much as he could in his dream diary. Last night's entry was a rather bizarre one, however. The beginning was pretty typical, nothing spectacular. Though, trying to hug a sun wasn't very pleasant. One would think it wise to avoid doing so in their next dream, or ever for that matter, but another fail-safe of dreams is the factor of forgetfulness. As a kid, you learn that if you touch the stove, it is very hot and you will get burned. Next time you wouldn't touch the stove. Dreams aren't so simple. Every dream is like being born anew, a clean slate. Even for Vlad, a habitual lucid dreamer, it proved very difficult to bring outside knowledge into his dreamscape.

The dreamscape.. On that note, Vlad grabbed his diary and reread the latest entry.

'Day #3467

Dear Diary,

Last night started with another space dream. I felt bad for a star, I thought it was lonely. I tried to get close, but I got burned in a cloud-like form. I can't remember pulling anything relevant from the real world into this. I'm going to call this new form Mercury, because of the reflective skin.

I got to be Persona again. It's been almost a month since I last felt human in a dream. Most of the rest is a blur.. and definitely not normal.'

Vlad idly spun his pencil between each of his fingers, vaguely remembering a detail he forgot to add in today's entry. He spun the wooden pencil and caught it between his index finger and thumb, before finishing the entry.

'I met a woman dressed in black with a red hood. She'

His hand paused and he contemplated how best he should word the final sentence. Vlad sat there for a full three minutes before erasing a word and continuing.

'I met a woman dressed in black with a red hood. I don't ever remember creating such an imposing figure. She is by far the most solid projection to date.'

It felt satisfactory, but still incomplete, so he added one last statement.

'She also terrifies me the most, above all else. Even Them.'

This was Vlad's dream diary, so he didn't hide the fact he was scared, it was for his eyes only. But he stubbornly, and irrationally refused to acknowledge what he called 'Them'. The problem at hand, however, was his irrational obsession with this woman that ended his dream. The only reason he even remembered her was because that was the last image locked in his mind as he regained consciousness. The only fragment of the end of the dream that wasn't clouded, or confusing.

Her.. and the scythe. In an after thought, Vlad massaged his throat again as the surrounding muscles tensed. He tried to deny it, but something about that woman captivated him, and he couldn't shake it free. Now that he thought about it, she wasn't just the most solid projection he had ever created, she was the most solid anything he had ever created. Like a potter accidentally creating a diamond from clay. Vlad smiled and corrected that last thought with an ironic twist. Like a potter accidentally making a ruby.

"Vladimir!"

The teen jumped at the sudden call of his name from downstairs. He was deep enough in thought that he almost forgot he was even sitting in the real world at all. The perks of being a dreamer came with the burden of being a thinker. "Coming!" he responded to the female voice, hoping his own voice carried through his closed door. Vlad quickly pulled a clean shirt over his head and slipped his arms through the sleeves. He was dressed in a plain pair of blue-jeans with frayed holes revealing his knees. After shifting his plain black tee to sit comfortably on his chest, he ran his hands through his raven colored hair and combed it out of his cerulean eyes with his fingers.

Vlad wasn't too big on appearances, so he just left his messy bangs sitting somewhat lazily swept to the left. With urgent - admittedly sloppy - movements, Vlad bolted through his door and almost fell down the stairs as he descended two steps at a time.

"What's up?" he asked through shallow breaths as his heart caught up with the adrenaline.

"I've been calling for about ten minutes now," Luka droned with an annoyed expression. Luka was more than twice the age of the fifteen-year-old, taller, slightly darker, and generally looked nothing like her son. Then again, that tended to happen when they were adopted. At the age of twenty-three years, Luka adopted the six-year-old Vladimir Ebon from an orphanage she herself attended when she was in similar circumstances as the teen. Though at the time, they agreed not to refer to each other as mother and son, but paperwork and the law said otherwise. Acquaintances often raised recurring questions to the two of them when prompted on the strange relationship, much to the teen's dismay and Luka's immense amusement at Vlad's embarrassment.

"Fine, whatever. Point?" Vlad retorted as he rummaged the fridge for anything to catch his eye. Nothing did, so he withdrew from the door and closed it with a small frown.

"I'm going to the mall and thought you might like to tag along," she said from her spot leaning against the counter opposite the refrigerator. Luka had long, almost impossibly straight black hair which stretched half-way down her back. Her facial features were refined and almost exotic, making her very beautiful.

"And what? Follow you as you shop for bras and... stuff. Whatever else women shop for? I think I'll pass," Vlad resigned as he scratched the measly stubble on his chin.

"Actually, I figured you would want to check out the new occult bookstore there." Luka cupped her hand over her mouth, seemingly in contemplation. In reality, she was hiding a sly grin.

Vlad froze in place, his eyes locking on a point far away. After a few seconds, his mouth seemingly moved on its own, voicing his thoughts. "Occult, you say?"

"Occult. It's called Aether." The older woman no longer covered the grin as she crossed her arms. I've got him now, she thought as she watched the gears turn.

Sure enough, Vlad grinned on cue and he locked eyes with Luka. "Deal." To be certain, the relationship between the two of them was just dysfunctional enough to be like playful siblings.

Vlad sat at a small table isolated from the multitude of other people gathered in the large food court. He sipped on the drink in his hand as he flipped through the pages of the book before him. Page after page was edged by a border of archaic runes and glyphs, each one elegant and more intricate than the last. The body of each page, however, was completely bare. The paper itself was somewhat crude and almost cloth-like in texture, riddled with imperfections and dark spots. The string binding the pages together was tight, and somewhat frayed on the edges. The smooth, matte black cover was etched with precise pin-striping and leather work, complimenting the metalwork making up the traditional key-hole lock on the front cover which connected to the leather strap and latch hanging from the back cover.

Over his nine years of records, Vlad went through quite a few journals. This one was by far his favorite - and most expensive - to date. Although the journal tucked away in the messenger bag on his back still had a few months left in it before it would be retired, he liked to think in advance. Vlad's irrational phobia was the possibility of not being able to record his granted eight hours of sleep each night. As far as he was concerned, dreams were to be cherished and collected like gold coins. Then again, he was under the assumption he was no different than anyone else. To Vlad's naive views on life, everyone had the same kind of dreams he did.

The pale teen deliberately blinked several times, realizing he was sitting there staring at the empty book for several minutes, once again lost in thought. A sudden giggle from a table at the edge of the food court in front of him caught his attention. The laugh itself caught Vlad's attention less than the appearance of the girls who sat at the table itself. Of everyone in the entire building he had set eyes on so far, none of them could hold a candle to the vivid color and flair of the four girls.

Vlad sat the styrofoam cup down and held the blank book closer to his face, to hide his watchful gaze from any onlookers. One of the girls, tall with long, fiery blonde hair was leaning back on two legs in her chair as she began to burst out in a chest-heaving laughter. The contrasting teen across from her wore an icy scowl as her face began to brighten to a vivid red, and her eyes narrowed to threatening slits. Vlad couldn't tell if the platinum-haired girl was either glowing red with anger, or brimming bright in embarrassment.

The girl next to the blonde - a calm, solemn looking girl with the same black hair as Vlad topped with a.. bow? Vlad paused his analysis of the third girl as his eyebrow raised in surprise. That's not something you see everyday. The girl with the bow hid a smile behind her hand as she watched her companions through radiant gold eyes.

Going through them one by one in turn, Vlad's eyes finally settled on the fourth girl at the table. This one puzzled him. She wore a black and red hoodie, with the hood pulled almost clear over her eyes, and sat completely and utterly still. The only perceived movement the girl gave off was her mouth silently making the shapes of words. Vlad slightly shifted his weight to sit higher, and he saw she was reading a book sitting before her. Now even more puzzled, he shifted his weight back down and this time caught sight of her eyes. A shiver went up his spine with the sense of déjà vu. Her eyes were half closed, and conveyed zero emotion. She looked like a dead body mechanically reciting some kind of incantation bid upon it by some long-lost master.

Ding. Vlad immediately tore his attention away from the girls and pulled out the pen from a pocket on his messenger bag behind him. He clicked the button and opened the first page of his new journal.

'The Woman In Red'

Whenever inspiration hit, Vladimir wasted no time to immediately act on it. Spurred on by the memory of his dream and this strange, trance-like teenager, he began writing whatever freely flowed through his mind's eye.

'...Standing alone amid the crumbling headstones, she cradled the eroded remnants of a withered mask...' Within just a matter of minutes, he filled up half of the first page. After ending the short passage, he attempted to quickly sketch a rough portrait of the woman in his mind's eye. The image in his head was that of the scythe-wielding woman from his dream, her deadly gaze boring through his skull. Once again, without realizing it, Vlad began to let his mind wander as his hands were occupied with the image forming on the parchment. He began imagining what exactly it was that brought on the image to begin with. Some subconscious fear? A desire maybe? Perhaps.. a memory?

His mind continued to wander until the image in his mind moved again, and he willed the visage to act, as if on its own will. A painful thorn sprouted in Vlad's mind, causing a wave to crash over the shore of his consciousness, disorienting him. He clenched his eyes shut, not realizing that he also clenched the muscles in his hand. When he opened his eyes again, Vlad found that he had dug his pen in and tore the first page, dragging a long scar of ink along the page originating from the corner of the woman's eye.

Vlad quickly shut the journal and rubbed his eyes, trying to wipe away the electric pain behind them. He stood and stuffed his things into his bag and cursed under his breath as he knocked over his drink in his haste. With his scowl deepening, he quickly wiped up the mess with some napkins and left before he made more of a scene.

Little did he know, Vlad was being watched since the moment he ripped the paper.

"So that was him, huh?" Yang huffed as she stood and stretched.

"Maybe? I only saw him oOOOOOOOOOOoonnce.." Ruby answered as her statement trailed off into a yawn.

"Oh come on, you're still sleepy?" Yang whined as she tried not to get tied up in a contagious yawn.

After a few seconds with no answer, Weiss drifted her somewhat bored gaze to the red-headed teen next to her. "Wha- Really?" she guffawed, looking to the others at the table. "She's already out cold!"

"Shhh, she's hunting," Yang quipped with a wink and a grin.

"More like haunting. Am I the only one who feels bad for that kid?" Blake asked rhetorically as her bow almost imperceptibly twitched.

"He chose his side. He has no sympathy from me," Weiss deadpanned as she eased Ruby's head off the table and onto the girl's own arm. "This is war. He is the enemy. It's that simple."

A/N: Even with the annoying setback, this was still a fun chapter to write. I hope you've enjoyed the story so far!